Stay with me(Just a little longer)
by Meggels921
Summary: He can't stay. He knows that. He knows the longer he stays, the more it will hurt... but then, why is it so hard to go?


Soft sighs and satisfied smiles fill the small, dark room. Muscular arms wrap around a stomach tense with muscles he doesn't think are big enough to be seen, he disagrees. A gentle breeze sweeps sheer curtains across open windows with messy paint. Slight movements make the old metal frame of the bed creak in protest. Gentle breaths flit across his neck as his lashes tickle his cheeks.

"Uhh," He groans, his vision blurry with the residue of sleep as his fist rubs at tired eyes.

His groggy eyes fall upon the still sleeping form tangled with his. He runs his fingers through the dark golden strands of hair, tangled from a restless sleep. He pulls the hand resting on his stomach to his lips and gently presses his lips to the calloused skin of his palm.

He rests his cheek against the rough skin, reveling in the light feeling in his head as he stares at the sun-kissed glow that always seems to light up his face. As he looks on and marvels at how truly lucky he is, he can't help but let the nagging voice in the back of his mind trickle in.

This can never be real, the voice which Steve had learned to hate, his own voice, and his own concerns, reminds, A few stolen moments, a few stolen kisses, a few stolen nights, will always be just that. Stolen. One day he'll meet a nice girl that he'll marry and have kids with. This is temporary, you are temporary.

He tries to shake the thoughts from his head, it doesn't normally work but he may as well try. He tries to lose himself in the soft lines of his face; looking upon him as if he hasn't had every crease, bump, and indent ingrained in his mind since he first lay next to him in the light of the pale moon, with nothing to do other than look at the handsome boy next to him.

He takes his finger and runs it across his face. Over his high cheeks, along his strong jaw, up and over his temple to his forehead. He drags his finger down his nose and, as lightly as he dares, across his closed eyelids, feeling his dark lashes tickle the tip of his finger and he goes back down his other cheek. He runs the pad of his thumb across his bottom lip, feeling the soft skin usually pressed to his own.

This can never last, that same voice, his voice, warns again, it has a tendency to do that, warn him of the fleeting nature of their union, you can't go on like this forever, you can't lie about "just not liking anyone right now" forever. People will get suspicious, you'll be labeled a fairy, no-one will talk to you, your Dad will laugh and never let you back in the house-

"Fuck." He rubs at his eyes again, blinking rapidly and trying to convince himself that it's just something in his eye.

He doesn't care-can't care-that this blissfully new feeling of lightness that fills his heart whenever his best friend enters the room won't-can't- last. He doesn't care that late-night kisses that send him into a peaceful sleep filled with dreams of the life he wished they could live will eventually end. He doesn't care that for the first time in a long time he feels as though someone truly cares about him, like someone would give a fuck if he took a handful of pills to ease this never-ending pain or went to the roof of the highest building he could find and jumped.

He pretends he doesn't notice when fat, wet tears roll down his cheeks as he stares upon his lovers sleeping form, knowing that no matter how hard they try he can never spend the rest of his life with him the way he does in his dreams. He tries to say he's fine when his bottom lip trembles as they get out of the shower and he has to wonder if this is the last time they'll get to do this. He acts like it doesn't bother him that other couples can hold hands in public, and kiss, and fuck without making sure nobody will be home for hours.

Steve stares down as Soda shifts in his sleep, moaning slightly as dim morning light filters through the windows and onto his face. He wants to hold him, kiss him, be with him. He can't though, he knows that. He knows that if he goes in for another touch it will be followed by another and another and another. He can't deny Soda, not when his gorgeous eyes stare into his, beckoning him to stay the night, pulling him into yet another universe-shattering kiss. He can't say no when strong arms wrap around him making him feel loved and wanted, something he wished he could feel all the time. He can't say no when Soda's hands wander southward, starting things they really shouldn't be risking being seen doing… especially not in the garage at the DX, just before closing time in the back of a new blue corvette that had been brought in to get new brakes.

He really should say no, he has to go. They have to be careful, no one can know, he couldn't do that to Soda, couldn't let him be treated the way they treat people who are more open about being what they are. He doesn't want Soda to face those criticisms, and as long as nobody catches them they won't ever suspect a thing. Everyone just thinks he hasn't gone on a date in a year because of the scars Sandy left that had yet to heal. Unbeknownst to them, those wounds healed long ago, Steve's own lips making them ancient history, their soft moans pushing whatever hurt there once was out of Soda's mind.

He knows he has to go, and so, despite the yearning in his heart and the small voice in the back of his mind screaming at him to not go, for once just let you both wake up together. Let you walk out of the room after others have woken up. Let yourself enjoy the time you spend together, let yourself relish in his soft lips being pressed against your skin, trailing down, down, down. He can't, though, he really must go, the sun is rising rapidly, if he doesn't go quickly he may get caught. Ponyboy is known for waking early to watch the sunrise, even in the middle of the summer when all he has to do is lounge around the house and cruise the town with Two-bit.

He carefully, and regretfully lifts the arm laying across his chest pushing it onto Soda's chest. He slowly lifts the blankets, the cold morning air sent chills up his body, oh how he wishes he could just stay wrapped up in his lover's arms for eternity, hidden away from the cruel truths of a world that would have them both labeled as monsters, freaks, faeries, gay.

He silently sets his feet on the wood floor beneath him, the cold that had settled there through the night seeping up through his socks and into the soles of his feet. He grabs his worn converse from where they sit beside the bed, pulling on his plain white shirt that lay beside them. He's nearly mastered this next part, taking light steps he tiptoes across the room, shoes in hand as he reaches for the doorknob. His grasp is firmly on the handle, turning slowly as to not let it creak, opening the door and stepping out into the hallway.

"Steve?" Soda's sleep heavy voice carries through the silence.

His eyes snap to the now awake form sitting in the bed, he's rubbing at his eyes, trying to clear the sleep from them to better see his lover standing in the doorway. He pulls back the blankets, pressing down his hair which he's sure is a mess as he makes his way to the handsome boy in his room.

Steve is sill as those same strong arms that had been wrapped around him in bed hold him once more. He doesn't dare make a sound as Soda nuzzles his face into the crook of his neck, pressing wet kisses along his jawline.

"I have to go," Steve whispers, pulling calloused hands out from under his shirt where Soda had managed to fit them, dragging them up and down his toned chest.

"Why?" Soda asked, dragging his hands all the way down the body he's had memorized for months.

"You know why," He grumbles, eyes glued to the brightening sky visible through the window above his bed. He has to go. He can't be here. What if someone finds him. What if they tell everybody, they'll be fired, he has no idea how Pony and Darry would react, he doesn't want to get him kicked out of his house. His brothers are all he has left, Steve doesn't want to be the reason they turn him away.

"Darry ain't here," His accent is thick as his hot breath presses against his ear sending chills up his spine that aren't from the cold, "He's off skiing with buddies, and Pony and the guys won't just come barging in here."

"I dunno 'bout this Soda." His eyes are uneasy but he lets Soda pull him back into the room, pulling the door shut behind him with a quiet click.

"C'mon baby, stay with me, just a little longer," Soda pleads, but as his hands trailed down disappearing beneath the shorts Steve had thrown on last night, he knows that he won't be leaving any time soon.


End file.
